


I used to say I want to die before I'm old, but because of you I might think twice

by ravenclaw5sos (orphan_account)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Famous Michael, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Like One Direction famous, Love/Hate, M/M, Michael is so so famous, Muke - Freeform, Rockstar Michael, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shop worker Luke, Smut, but he lives in a really small and quiet town in America, so he doesn't get bothered by the press or paparazzi much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7726624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ravenclaw5sos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke works in a music shop, and Michael is a world famous rock star. They come from completely different worlds, one simple and easy, one wild and adventurous. Maybe that would explain why, upon their first encounter, there's immediate hate between the two men (mixed in with huge amounts of sexual tension, but neither are brave enough to admit it). </p><p>This is a mostly smutty/fluffy fanfiction, mixed in with some angst because why not :) Most of it will be quite light and happy, however there will be some sadder, darker parts too. x</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Look At The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Hai! So I'm kinda excited for this fanfiction, and really hope y'all enjoy the first chapter! There's not much muke in this as it more focuses on introducing characters, but there will definitely be more next chapter :) Cal and Ash aren't in this chapter sorry , they'll be making appearances soon :P Michael is 20 and Luke is 19 in this, but I like to imagine that in this fanfic they look how they did in 2014, so Luke with a quiff and no stubble etc :) As I've said in the summary, this is going to be a fairly light hearted fanfic but there will be some more emotional, deeper and darker parts.
> 
> Title from We Don't Believe What's on TV- twenty one pilots 
> 
> Chapter title from Yellow by Coldplay :)

The sun was setting over the beautiful land of America. People were finishing up work, family meals were being cooked, and stores were being shut. For most people, the day was done. It was time for late night TV, card games, putting the kids to bed and getting some alone time with your partner.

Luke stared out of the shop window, frowning slightly. The sky was a different colour tonight, and that bothered him. It wasn't that sweet, relaxing tangerine orange that you'd see in priceless paintings, the shade that usually spread amongst the heavens and seeped through the clouds, stunning excited tourists and bringing tired smiles to the faces of the locals, who had seen it ten times before.

No, it wasn't that beautiful ginger tonight. It was more of a creamy, pastel pink, mixed in with a wallpaper of strawberries and peaches. The kind of colour he'd maybe like to paint his future house, the one with the picket fence, and the cute dog in the backyard, and some chickens wandering around the drive way. The one where he’d have a loving husband, maybe a couple of kids- 

“Luke!” Startled, the blond jumped, and spun around on his worn out leather chair, only to be greeted with the sight of his boss, Michelle. Her hair was a pretty lilac today, tied up into a high ponytail, complete with an electric indigo fringe. A black mini skirt and floral, pearl white blouse adorned her body, along with a pair of suede high-heels (likely to be extremely expensive, knowing Michelle’s high standards of fashion). 

He grinned at her, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair, hoping to pull off his day dreaming as simply concentrating on the screen of the computer in front of him. As if reading his mind, Michelle put a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. 

It had been a problem of his recently- staring off into space, thinking about everything and nothing all at once- and it tended to go on for much longer than it should. He really needed to be careful, he knew that. Losing his job was hardly what he needed right now, not when it had taken him so much time to find one in the first place.

Thankfully, Michelle wasn’t having one of her bad days, so she simply sighed and shook her head. “I need you to come up with some ideas to make this shop more…appealing. We hardly get any customers nowadays, not when everyone’s buying music online.” Before Luke could butt in, saying that he had no idea how to do that, she stopped him. “Just make some pretty posters, put them up around town. Work on the website; make it more inviting, cooler. Tell your friends to drop in and take a look round sometime.” 

Luke bit his lip. “I don’t have that many friends,” He mumbled, feeling a warm flush creep up his neck, flooding into his cheeks. Michelle sighed again, patting him on the back. “Then go make some.” With that, she made her way back to the office, high heels clacking on the ground all the while. Luke stared after her, wondering if that was her way of telling him he was allowed to go. Checking his watch, he saw that it was almost six, the shop’s official closing time- he might as well pack up. Grabbing his rucksack, he swung it over his back, switching off the computer and stepping out from behind the counter. “Bye!” He called, not waiting for an unlikely answer from Michelle before dashing over to the door, pulling it open, and stepping out into the summer air. 

****************************************************************************************************************

Michael leant against a lamppost, small smile on his face as he watched a couple of young, teenage girls approach him. They were chatting to each other excitedly, phones clutched in their hands. “Hi!” One of the women giggled as they reached him, chocolate coloured hair falling in her eyes. “Hey!” He responded, equally as happy to meet them as they were he.

Fans were always so sweet, so lovely. Michael never understood why other celebrities sometimes disrespected their admirers, ignoring them or using them. He wished he could have an hour long conversation with every single person who listened to his music, he really did. This is why now, in the cool evening atmosphere, he took his time with the two girls, chatting, taking photos, and just hanging out, like they had known each other for years. By the time they eventually left, Michael had a huge grin on his face, as well as two new friends. 

He loved his job way too much, really. Loved every second of it, even the stressful moments, even the times when it all got a bit too much. It was worth it. Not many people got to do what they loved every single day of their life, and he was overly grateful for that. Playing on stage, writing music, and meeting fans were just a few highlights, but definitely his favourite ones.

Michael cleared his throat, voice worn out after the overly long conversation that had just taken place. Still smiling, he started to make his way home. The stars were so bright above his head, almost as if they weren’t stars at all, but stage lights, flooding down on him as he stood before the screaming audience, who were chanting his name like a mantra. They’d be holding up banners, pieces of paper with cute messages on, or maybe his very own lyrics. He’d smile at them, waving to the ones at the front, who would wave back with so much enthusiasm; it was amazing that all that energy was for him, inspired by him.

 

The next morning, Luke stormed into the shop with a sulky expression and a head full of very wet hair. His clothes were sticking to his skin, shirt see through and everything. He’d been caught in the awful weather, and hadn’t been carrying an umbrella- typical. Michelle took one look at him and burst into laughter, so much that tears sprung to her eyes. He growled at her, before shrugging off his rucksack and chucking it behind the counter, marching over to the wooden desk and sitting down with a huff. His boss continued to chuckle, walking over and ruffling his hair, ignoring Luke’s protests. “Posters, Luke. I need those posters.” He waved her off with a ‘yeah, yeah’, switching on the computer and fixing his hair.

The rain was relentless, pounding against the window like an angry mob of people. Half an hour passed, and Luke’s bad mood had made itself at home in his mind. Plus, his shirt was still as wet as it had been when he first walked in. He had a spare in his bag- his mum had taught him to take spare clothing everywhere he went, just in case- but his break wasn’t for another hour and a half, and he couldn’t risk a customer walking in whilst he was getting changed.

Still…it would only take half a minute. Rummaging through his bag, he pulled out a burgundy t shirt, and began to do undo the buttons on his top. But just as he pulled it off, throwing it to the floor quickly, he heard the bell ring, heard the door open and slam shut again.

Shit.

He couldn’t just leave the customer standing there, that would be even worse. Gulping, he ran a hand through his still-damp hair and slowly turned around.

Oh God.

Maybe having his back to the customer would have been better after all. Why, why, why, had he decided it would be a good idea to just strip in the middle of the shop, why couldn’t he have waited?

Why was he so stupid?

Because standing in front of the door, guitar case slung over one shoulder, eyes wide, hair a mess, was him. The superstar, the rock star. The guy everyone kept talking about, the one whose CDs they had to constantly restock because they sold out so much. The one who girls on the street chatted about, the one who apparently lived in this town and for some reason everyone was so excited about that. 

Michael Clifford.


	2. The world keeps spinning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, whoo! Theres a lot of muke in this one, hope y'all like it! please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed it, that'd make me very very happy :D Xx

For one moment, time seemed to stop. Just…stop. The birds stopped singing, the airplanes stopped flying, the world stopped turning. It was only Michael Clifford, and him. Michael Clifford, whose voice he’d heard on the radio, whose face Luke had seen on the front of one hundred magazines, on the TV, but never ever seen in real life. Michael Clifford and shirtless, wet haired, moody Luke. 

It was this fact, the reminder that Luke was hardly in his best state to meet one of the most famous people in the entire universe, which snapped him out of it. Abruptly, the birds began to tweet again; the airplanes continued their journeys, the world carried on with its everyday activities. 

The blond reached for the chair that he had tucked into the counter, grabbing the burgundy shirt off the top of it, holding eye contact with the unexpected customer all the while. Michael had such green eyes, almost like emeralds. In fact, everything about him was a lot more…a lot more beautiful up close. Sure, Luke had admired him from afar, occasionally catching an interview of his on the evening chat shows, maybe humming along to his songs when they came on the radio. But when the legend was standing in front of him, he was…breathtaking. 

A small cough brought him back to reality. Michael was leaning against the doorframe, smirk playing on his soft lips. “No need to rush to get dressed, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the view.” His voice was low, Australian accent wrapping itself round the words like a boa constrictor wraps itself around its prey. 

Luke, to his complete horror, felt a blush flooding into his cheeks, and he glared at the man in front of him. Michael continued to watch him as Luke hurriedly put the shirt on, fumbling with the buttons and silently begging his face to cool down, undoubtedly bright red from the degradation, the embarrassment. 

When Luke had finished, he took a deep breath, and stepped closer to Michael. “Can I help you, or are you just gonna stand there and watch me get dressed?” Michael raised an eyebrow and chuckled, taking a step closer too, so they were only a few centimetres apart. “Someone’s got an attitude. Is that really how you were taught to treat customers?” His voice was barely above a murmur, and it was doing all sorts of things to Luke- or rather, Luke’s body- that he didn’t like at all. 

“No,” Luke said, voice full of grit and bitterness. “This is how I was taught to treat rude men who think it’s perfectly okay to publicly humiliate someone.” Michael whistled lowly, smirk transforming into a grin. “Don’t blame me. I just innocently walked into a music shop to get my guitar fixed, didn’t expect to see Mr. Sex on Legs in front of me.” 

Luke clenched his fists, but before he could retort with a biting insult, they were both distracted by a gasp from somewhere near the counter. Upon turning around, Luke saw Michelle gaping at Michael, wide eyed, a rather comical sight. 

In fact, Luke had forgotten. In those few precious seconds that he’d just spent arguing with Michael, he’d forgotten that he was talking to the one and only Michael Clifford. It hadn’t fazed him in the slightest, that he was talking to the man who people dreamt of even catching a glimpse of, whose face would be plastered on posters, posters that would be plastered on the walls of fans’ bedrooms, and maybe they’d stare at these posters every night before they went to sleep. 

Why? Luke was one to get star struck easily; Hell, he cried when seeing his favourite band, he almost fainted when he met Taylor Swift on the street. So, how come being this close, having such an easy conversation- or, fight, rather- with a person who had their name imprinted on the walk of fame, didn’t strike him as unusual or amazing? 

Michelle, on the other hand, seemed like she was going to pass out from her excitement. She rushed over to Michael, grabbing his hand and shaking it enthusiastically. He smiled at her graciously, laughing lightly when she started babbling about how much of a fan she was. Luke could only stand and watch, everything blurry except for Michael, everything muffled except for his voice. Like he was underwater…like he was drowning.

He shook his head. Jesus Christ. What the Hell had gotten into him? Sighing, he walked over to the counter and sat down, folding his hands and resting his chin on them, yawning loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth as he did so. 

 

“So, how can we help you?” Michelle asked Michael, after about ten minutes of her bombarding him with questions about his new album, if he had a girlfriend, what it was like being famous. He loved talking to fans, of course he did, but he hadn’t expected to run into any today; he’d planned to just stay at home and write songs, but that was before the string on his guitar snapped. “Um, my guitar string broke.” He replied easily, but the smile on his face fell when he heard a humourless laugh from the boy behind the counter. 

It was the blond one, the shirtless beauty. He really was beautiful, even if he was in a bad mood today. In all honestly, that attitude of his was just drawing Michael in- it was hypnotising, and it made Michael want more. “You’ve never learnt how to change a guitar string?” The kid asked, obviously amused. Michael scowled at him. “No. Have you got a problem with that?”

The teenager shrugged, ignoring the bewildered expressions from his boss. She hadn’t seen the argument between him and Michael, the latter figured, so she didn’t understand where all this loathing was coming from. “Just thought a rock star like you should know the basics by now, that’s all.”

That boy really did know how to push Michaels buttons. He’d only just met him, and he already hated him. Michael wasn’t one to dislike people- he made friends with the fans, he ignored the haters, and he smiled at people on the street. In fact, Michael hadn’t felt detestation as strongly as this for someone in a long time. 

Michelle, deciding to just ignore the heavy tension in the air, smiled warmly at Michael. “Well, I’m sure we can easily teach you how, can’t we?” She said, directing to the question to the blond, who Michael had yet to learn the name of.

The boy opened his mouth to protest, before hurriedly checking his watch. “Er, you know what Michelle? I really don’t feel that well, I, um, I think I’m gonna go home.” He said it all so fast, grabbing his rucksack and running straight out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Michael could only stare at the door in disbelief- he hadn’t even gotten the kids name. “Hey, um, does that boy work here often?” He asked, turning to Michelle. 

She beamed. “Yes! Mondays to Fridays. Why, do you plan on coming back?” Michael nodded, allowing a smile to work its way onto his face. “Yeah. Yeah, Michelle, I do.” He might not know the boys name, but he knew where he worked, and that was good enough for him.


End file.
